


Antheia

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Sex Pollen Incident Is Awkward But Not Actually Traumatic, Barebacking, M/M, Mutual Aphrodisiac-Induced Dubcon, Pre-Relationship, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Alexios and Stentor find a strange artifact like none Alexios has ever seen before.
Relationships: Alexios/Stentor (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 110
Collections: Flash Fuck: Round One (2019)





	Antheia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> Set after the main quest when Alexios gets to have Stentor as a lieutenant.

“This is truly remarkable.”

Usually, Alexios would have urged Stentor on to hurry. The tunnels they had stepped into after breaking through a wall in the back of an abandoned temple were outfitted with enough traps to slay a whole host of adventurers and snakes slid from every crevice and old pot. It was not the sort of place where you would want to linger.

But to Stentor’s credit, he very rarely slowed Alexios down like this when he accompanied him, ready just to get whatever Alexios needed another pair of hands for over with as soon as possible, which Alexios suspected to be the result of a mix of duty-bound Spartan efficiency and a wish to escape Alexios’ presence as soon as possible. This was, indeed, why he didn’t push him along now. He’d never seen Stentor cast more than a passing glance at anything they saw in their journeys, but when the light of Alexios’ torch had touched the far wall of a winding passage, where a giant mural had been painted on a wall now half-crumbled, Stentor had slowed his step and stared.

“What’s so strange about this?” Alexios asked.

It was a pretty painting, to be sure, black figures on an earthen ground of the sort you’d expect to find on a vase or bowl, arranged in horizontal columns like several scrolls spread out.

“I think this is a depiction of a cult of Artemis Orthia,” Stentor said. “It looks so much like the one in the temple…” His hand hovered over images in the different rows of the mural. “But we are far from Sparta and this is old.”

“Maybe the artists was Spartan, or used to be. They might have been exiled or ran away for some reason.”

“Maybe.” Stentor hesitated. “They do say that the image of Orthia is not from Sparta. It was found in the willow-woods a long time ago.” His finger came to rest on a lower image. Alexios saw a human being stretched out over an altar, a blade plunged in their chest by another. “The _epheboi_ get whipped in the temple because the image of Artemis Orthia grows heavy in the priestess’ arms when no human blood is spilled. It was always said that once upon a time, people must have been sacrificed to her. Perhaps this person imagined it, too… or they had seen such a ceremony.”

“It could be older than the temple in Sparta. It’s definitely older than the one we passed through,” Alexios said, taking a couple of steps forward to stand by his side. “Maybe the artist knew where Artemis Orthia really came from.”

“Yes…”

Stentor finally tore himself from the sight after staring at the depiction of the sacrifice for another moment. He straightened his shoulders and schooled his expression, as if he’d snapped out of some trance.

“We should continue,” he said curtly.

“Right.”

Alexios had to grin. It seemed like being caught in a friendly conversation with Alexios, or perhaps seen being enthralled by a piece of art, drew the same reaction from Stentor as if Alexios had found him indulging in drink before battle or with a hetaera in his lap.

As Alexios led them left, along the only unblocked passage, he glanced back at the pictures.

“Are you interested in these sorts of things? I didn’t take you for someone with the ambitions of a chronicler.”

Silence, only filled with their careful steps on the treacherous ground, stretched on for so long that Alexios wondered if Stentor had elected to ignore his question, but he finally answered as they descended a set of crumbling stairs: “Most Spartans are quite involved with the gods. I suppose one in whose blood the divine flows has no need of such things,” he said, in a tone that indicated that he still very much judged Alexios for his negligence. “But I have knelt at the steps of that Artemis temple often enough. Our father was very insistent that I give my blood as often as I could when I was younger, as is tradition. It made me wonder a lot of things, but the priestesses told me not to think into it so much. I was bound to be a soldier, after all.” He glanced briefly at Alexios from the corner of his eyes. “Do you see a lot of things like this?”

“Odd images of the past? Yes, and much more.” He hesitated. “I did not give them as much attention as I should have, though. Not for the last ten years. I always had my goal in mind.”

It seemed that Stentor understood, for he nodded his head. “I have gone to many places in the world, but all I ever saw were battlefields and camps. I wonder if that’s true or if those are just the only things I looked at.”

Alexios chuckled. “Maybe age did bring a little wisdom for us both, after all. Had I known you were interested, I would have taken you to such places earlier. I thought you’d be bored by old caves. I just figured this temple would be guarded, to be honest.”

After all, it seemed like Stentor was still incensed that the kings had given Alexios leave to ask Stentor to accompany him out of Sparta – even though it was not like they had transferred any power of command to him –, which seemed asinine to Alexios. If his home had demanded of him that he never leave the city without permission, he would have taken every opportunity.

“I haven’t told you ‘no’ once yet, have I?” Stentor said, staring stubbornly ahead. “No matter where you proposed to drag me.”

Alexios was quiet for a moment as he realised that Stentor was saying the truth. He’d complained about Alexios, his ship, his crew, and his choice in missions, but he had never turned him down when he’d asked for his help. It had come to a point that even Alexios didn’t seriously expect to have his requests rejected anymore and Stentor’s complaints were often an almost welcome excuse to squabble with him to shorten long days at sea.

Before he could turn the issue in his head enough to make sense of it, Alexios was held up by the fact that the stairs led straight into a square room that seemed to be a dead end.

“Careful with the middle stones, they’re loose. They probably have spikes under them,” Alexios told Stentor as he skirted along the edge of the chamber. He could feel a draft from the back and when he walked closer, he saw a low hole in the bottom of the wall, wide enough to slide under, which he did, hand already on his dagger as he got back on his feet. However, the next room was empty, too, no animals and no traps he saw, and nothing else in it, either.

Stentor, whose shield, strapped to his back, did not glide well enough to follow Alexios’ example, crawled through on his belly and stood to dust his leather skirt off as he looked around.

“What are we searching for?” he asked.

“Good question.”

The Cult had guarded the secret of this location jealously. Alexios had expected one of these stelae here at which he felt himself pull in the power of the gods, perhaps some old treasure, but he saw only a few rusty torch holders with pieces of wood that crumbled like old bodies. As he still stared at the ground to look for more loose stones or hidden doors, Stentor raised his hand to one of the torches.

“No one has been here in-”

His voice faded as the stone to which the torch holder he had grabbed was bolted to moved. Behind the torch, there was a narrow hollow. Coins, dim with dust of the ages, laid scattered over the ground next to a small, well-worked stone statue of a woman. At her feet sat a flower made of gold with thin, broad petals. 

“Is that Artemis Orthia?” Alexios guessed.

“I don’t think so. She is holding a conch-shell. It must be Aphrodite.”

“True.”

However, Alexios felt his gaze drawn away from the goddess to the flower. There were lines in the gold work, some curved, some circular. It looked odd, not quite like the baubles that people of these lands made.

He reached in to take hold of it. The moment his fingers made contact, golden lines exploded around them in the air, along with shivering images of unknown text that Alexios had gotten to know so well, yet could not read. Next to him, Stentor stumbled a step back and grabbed his spear.

“It’s fine!” Alexios said, quickly. “I have seen this before. This was made by the smiths to the gods.”

The light faded, leaving the cave in darkness again, but only for a moment. To Alexios’ surprise, the flower then emitted a shower of glowing sparks that went high in the air and came down slowly, shivering in the air.

“What is it doing?” Stentor asked.

“I… don’t know,” Alexios admitted, catching a few of the flakes of light on his palm. “They’re warm.”

Next to him, Stentor tried to dodge the falling bits with a frown on his face, but they stuck to him anyway, melting into nothing on his bare arms and legs, the stern features of his face. Alexios found himself lingering on the sight before he pulled himself together. It was not the first time by far that his thoughts had idly turned on his adopted brother’s physique because even when he had still spit poison at Alexios, he’d been a handsome man, but this was a strange moment for his mind to wander.

Stentor rubbed unhappily at a spot on his skin where a spark had landed. “You have seen objects like this before?” He paused. “Did it get warmer in here?”

“Not quite like this...”

Alexios had noticed the temperature shift, too, but the sudden burst of heat seemed to have come from inside his chest rather than the room. He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, finding himself quite unable to pick up the thread of his thoughts again, though he’d meant to tell Stentor about other sorts of artifacts of this make he’d found, all those fragments that had been paid for in blood. The air seemed thicker and yet he could not bring himself to worry as some part of him still knew he should. Instead, he looked at Stentor again, tracing the line of his muscular neck with his eyes, noting the gentle curve of his ear that he wanted to kiss, the way his nimble, long fingers curled and uncurled.

“I need – er, I need air,” Stentor murmured, casting his gaze down to his feet.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alexios agreed. What in the name of the gods was wrong with his head? Such explicit thoughts about Stentor usually came to him only when he was in bed with his cock in hand.

They tried to make good on their word, but both made for the only exit with such uncoordinated speed that they collided with each other just before the opening in the wall. Stentor’s bare arm touched Alexios’ wrist and he thought Zeus himself had struck him with lightning as their skin brushed up against each other. It was more surprising that he wasn’t torn asunder than that he found that he was hard when he looked down at himself, trying to make sense of the reactions of his own body.

“What is that cursed flower?” Stentor bit out.

“They have – I think some of these… things can change the body,” Alexios tried, struggling through speaking a full sentence. “Perhaps this is simply what the flower should do?”

“Aphrodite?” Stentor asked warily.

The statue – perhaps it had been a warning, or indeed a playful hint. Alexios groaned. He should have been more careful.

Next to him, Stentor took a long, shuddering breath. “What now?”

Alexios forced himself to focus. So far, the only way he’d seen one of these artifacts kill someone was because Kassandra has slammed a Cultist’s head down on the fragment pyramid, which probably was not the intended use, and when the weapons were wielded as intended. In fact, all of the strange divine objects he had interacted with had not been dangerous to the one who used them as they were supposed to be used.

“I think we must do what it wants us to.”

Stentor eyed him with trepidation, though his expression showed greed. They both could still think at least clear enough to say what that meant.

“If you say so…”

Still, they stood stiff next to each other, unmoving. Alexios’ felt his fingertips tingle, but there was a thread of guilt that kept him back. He was the one had brought Stentor here, who had handled the artifact, who found it no hardship to lay with him. Who could say what Stentor truly wanted? And yet, as Stentor finally surged forward as if for an attack and grabbed him by the back of the neck, the thoughts dispersed like so much loose sand in a hard wind. All Alexios could think of now was Stentor’s hot mouth on his.

They sank to the ground in a tangle of limbs and gripping hands. Stentor kissed just like Alexios had hoped, toothy nips at his lips and his tongue forcing entrance into Alexios’ mouth, but he gave no ground uncontested, and so they wrestled each other down, both attempting to win the upper hand with every brush and caress. In the scuffle, Alexios pawed at the fastenings of Stentor’s breastplate and shield, letting them clatter on the stone, and Stentor scattered Alexios’ weapons on the ground before he pressed him down on his back.

Alexios was prepared to throw Stentor off of him, but as Stentor clamped his powerful thighs around Alexios’ hips while he bit at his neck and rubbed the swell of his backside against Alexios’ hard cock, he suddenly didn’t see the point in fighting anymore. With eager hands, he reached down to brush their leather skirts out of the way and pull himself out of his underclothes. Stentor’s, wrapped fabric as they were, came apart after some impatient tugging, hardly skillful, as Alexios could not keep himself from grabbing his ass in the same movement.

Stentor let up from his throat for a moment, which Alexios was sure looked mauled, to sit back. His tongue slipped out to lick his wet lips and Alexios was so busy staring he was surprised by Stentor’s hand that reached up and gathered spit on his fingers before he grabbed Alexios’ cock and slicked him up.

In the back of his mind, Alexios realised Stentor would probably regret this later, but that quiet voice of reason had no room next to the clawing, wanton monster hat had taken residence within him. As soon as Stentor had lined himself up, Alexios’ hips snapped up, barely of his own volition. Stentor grunted and Alexios tried to hold on to the last shred of control he had, keeping himself still. It all went away when Stentor lifted his hips and then forced himself down onto him.

Alexios had never thought so little as he did when he fucked Stentor. The world had collapsed around them into black warmth and all he saw was Stentor bouncing in his lap. Distantly, as he shoved his hands under Stentor’s tunic to stroke his back, he noticed raised welts of skin. Lashing scars, he realised, and an image of Stentor as a young man bent bleeding over the steps of the temple of a violent goddess flitted through his head and some deep animal part of him growled approvingly. His fingers dug deep down into the flesh of his back, leaving his own marks. Stentor came without Alexios having ever touched his cock and Alexios yanked him down, fucked into him a couple more times before he spent himself and the encroaching darkness finally swallowed them.

-

When he woke, Alexios laid splayed on the stone ground in the chamber. Strewn about them were pieces of Stentor’s armour, weapons, and the golden flower sitting innocently by the handle of Alexios’ dagger. His torch, discarded in a corner, still flickered. On top of him laid Stentor, breathing but apparently not yet awake. Though everyone looked peaceful asleep, seeing all tension drained from his face was somehow still a surprise. Alexios ran his hand over his hair before he remembered that that wasn’t his right, but Stentor’s eyes were open before his hand was fully withdrawn.

They looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment before Stentor sat up slowly and lifted his backside so Alexios could slide out of him. He winced.

“Should have been you, you heal quickly,” he murmured, embarrassed and a little sullen.

“You were quite adamant about climbing into my lap,” Alexios reminded him. “You claimed that spot.”

Stentor glowered at him, but did not dare argue. Though they had been caught in the throes of some unearthly passion, they both seemed to remember what they had done very clearly.

As Stentor clambered awkwardly off of him, Alexios turned to look at the flower once more.

“Don’t touch that again!” Stentor warned behind him. He grabbed his cloak, which had been discarded with the armour, and handed it to Alexios. “Wrap it in this if you want to take it.”

“Good idea,” Alexios admitted.

Carefully, he gathered the flower up in the red fabric and then collected his various weapons and, of course, his broken spear. Stentor had strapped on his armour and arms again when Alexios turned back to him, but the leather straps of his _pteruges_ were disorderly and, at the back, half of them had gotten caught in the waistband.

“Wait a moment,” Alexios said.

Stentor stood still even as he reached over and began sorting through the battle skirt, his fingers brushing along his backside and thighs as Stentor watched him from the corner of his eyes. Afterwards, they crawled back into the front room.

“What a strange gift the gods have given here,” Stentor said, after they had traced their way back for a while.

“I suppose if Ares and Athena put out weapons, why shouldn’t the others want to create something that matches their being?”

Slowly, Stentor nodded. He offered his folded hands to Alexios as a step when they came to a steep incline they had jumped down on their way here, then allowed Alexios to pull him up onto the ledge from above, their hands clasped. As Alexios put Stentor on his feet, he felt as if some lingering summer storm that stifled the air for months had finally come down and cleared. He was not quite sure what would happen from here, but the careful interest in Stentor’s gaze was something he was very willing to explore.

“You do seem to stumble over fascinating things wherever you go. Perhaps it would be educational to accompany you on your less violent quests at times,” Stentor said, averting his gaze.

Alexios smiled.

“I’d be happy to have the company.”


End file.
